Of Star Wars and Fathers
by medicgirl
Summary: Contains Star Wars spoilers! Also set pre season 2 finale. Mac thinks too much, and as often happens, Jack has to make him listen to his heart once in a while... Family fluff and such ensues. I suck at summaries...


Authors note: First, this story contains spoilers for pretty much all the Star Wars movies. Be warned...

Second, I rarely bother with disclaimers anymore. If you guys don't know by now that they aren't mine... Well, if they were, I would get off my rear and we would have a whole season coming up, not a 13 episode placeholder!

Third, as always, overlook any self-indulgent fluff... I have been in this situation, more or less, and it sucks, but knowing who really has your back is worth it...

Enjoy, review, etc... Love you guys!

"Okay, no. That is simply pop culture from the perspective of people who never even bother with the classics! It was never that way, ever!"

Riley watched Bozer, wide-eyed. "Seriously? But I always thought…"

"Hey, now, which one of us was destined for a career in Hollywood before all this saving the world stuff got dropped in his lap? Besides, I've been Mac's best friend almost all of our lives!"

Riley did have to concede the last point. That certainly qualified him to know. "So you're sure he never said-"

Jack had to jump in at that. "He's right, Ri… never says his name. The line is, "No, I am your father!" He never says Luke."

Not to be outdone, Bozer added, "Just like Captain Kirk never said "Beam me up, Scotty". Never once in the whole show. It was always some minor variation on "One to beam up, Mr. Scott"."

"Okay, I give," Riley said with a laugh and another sip of her beer. "Can we just finish the movie now? It's about to be tomorrow!"

Jack had to laugh at that, enjoying the peaceful movie night with "his" kids. It seemed there was never enough time to just be people in their lives, to just enjoy breathing. Riley and Bozer seemed to be relaxing and happy, but when he turned to look at Mac, the smile fell.

The kid was staring at the TV, lost deep into his own thoughts, also deep into more beers than Jack had seen him drink in a while. He racked his brain, but could think of no bad situations, no horrible anniversaries that would drive MacGyver into a depression. Not that he didn't have enough stuff rattling around in that big brain of his to incapacitate a lesser man, but it usually took something to shove it into the forefront of his mind like this. Mac loved Star Wars. As many midnight premieres as he had dragged Jack to over the last four years left no doubt of that.

But he also knew that the effects of alcohol hit the genius a little differently than most. While in the average person, Jack included, alcohol slowed down their brain, making their thoughts sluggish and impaired. But Jack had seen Mac drunk a time or two (rarely) and had observed a strange phenomenon.

Best Jack could figure, there was so much stuff going on in Mac's mind at any given moment, everything from a tactical assessment of whatever room they were in to the chemical formula for root beer and whether or not it was a good idea to make some in the bathtub, that he had developed a kind of internal shield to keep from overloading all his circuits. Of at least having the worst case of ADD on the planet. Instead of slowing down his thought process (which could be done, but it took a whole fifth of tequila and a fairly serious case of alcohol poisoning… the days after finding out about Nikki's betrayal were rough) alcohol seemed to just disintegrate his shield. So whatever was on his mind was either flying past too rapidly for him to get a grip on it (which he hated with a passion) or was deep enough that his entire mind was engaged in various parts of the problem, which could be mildly terrifying. He sincerely hoped the kid hadn't figured out a new way to invent a lightsaber. That was hard enough to explain to the firemen who were able to save most of the garage the last time.

Jack contemplated his options. He could get serious, ask him what was going on in that head of his, get shut out completely or pulled into some crazy idea that would involve Matty talking them out of Homeland Security custody. Or, he could just be Jack, and snap him out of it… Of course choosing the latter, he decided to see how many pieces of popcorn he could throw into Mac's hair before he noticed. But after five or six, he got bored and grabbed a handful of MMs out of the other bowl Bozer had brought in. When the third one hit Mac square in the forehead, the infuriating little bomb nerd simply caught it as it bounced off his face and ate it, smirking a little as the credits started to roll.

They had started their marathon later than intended, and since they gave in to Mac and Bozer's united front that they had to watch Rogue One first, then A New Hope, it looked like everyone was going to have to call it a night before Return of the Jedi was happening. Riley gathered up her laptop and purse, and Bozer grabbed his bag and bus ticket. He was going to go visit his parents for a few days. Jack furtively slid a couple of their empties into his collection. Something was bugging his best friend, and there was no way he was going to leave him here alone with a slightly unbalanced mind and something bothering him. "Damn, I guess I had more than I meant to…" he said, counting the bottles he had gathered. "Too much to venture out on the road, anyway. Should I call an Uber, or can I just crash on the couch?"

"Why do you ask silly questions like that?" Mac asked, sitting up. "You know you're always welcome to stay. You don't even have to pretend you drank more than two beers to do it…"

Jack raised an eyebrow, and Mac gave him a weak grin. "Really? You had two, Riley had one, Bozer had four, which is why Riley is driving him to the bus stop. We also went through two pizzas, four bags of popcorn, three bags of MMs, and two third of whatever that pineapple stuff Bozer made. Halfway through the second movie, Riley dozed off, you discretely elbowed her and she was back in the game. Bozer nearly choked on his popcorn when you did your Wookiee impression, and Riley ties your shoelaces together last time you went to the bathroom. I'm a little drunk, Jack, not unconscious. I'm still aware of what's going on around me. And go ahead and look, it's killin you not to…" He couldn't help but smirk when Jack picked up one of his worn New Balance athletic shoes, the second one following, attached. "Told ya.."

Jack shook his head. "Ok, so you don't need a babysitter. You win." He made no move to leave.

Mac noticed, and seemed a little more relaxed. "You're still welcome to stay."

Jack feigned shock, pointing to himself. "Who me? You thought I was offering to stay and hold your head while you puked or something? Nah, I wasn't volunteering to babysit, I was just gonna stick around in case you got any cool ideas. Didn't want you trying to recreate the Death Star or the carbon freezing chamber without me!"

Mac snorted. "Yeah, well, after the warnings we got from the fire department last time, I'm at least going to keep the laser work elsewhere…"

"Warnings?" Jack said. "I know you're a little naïve, kid, but those were threats, not warnings!"

Mac shrugged and tossed Jack another beer. "Was half their fault anyway… I tried to tell them not to put water on a magnesium fire…"

Jack chuckled at the memory, but didn't open the beer. "So, besides the Death Star and magnesium fire, what's on your mind?"

Mac paused a second, gathering thoughts. "Well, if your GTO could beat the new Dodge Hellcat in a race… probably in a road course, but I doubt it on a drag strip…"

"Hey!" Jack objected.

Mac continued. "Also considering a more efficient filtration system for water we could take with us to jungles and places so we could just carry a little device rather than gallons of water, which weigh eight pounds each… pretty sure cold fusion was in there somewhere, whether the Blackhawks made a huge mistake firing Coach Q, and…" He shook his head. "A bunch of other random stuff. Nothing of any importance."

Jack would actually have bought it, if the expressive blue eyes had not darted away from his so quickly, before he even finished talking. Everyone had their tells, and that was Mac's biggest one. When something bothered him, he would never meet the eyes of someone who knew him well. Because anyone who knew him (and cared) would not be able to miss the hurt in his eyes. Realizing that, he had developed the habit of looking away, which in all honesty clued people in even faster. "Listen, hoss… I know there's something going on deeper than that. Something eating at you deeper that my car or random science things or hockey stats. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Mac closed his eyes and swallowed. "Just stupid stuff. Nothing for a grown man to even be thinking about. Hey, you want to go out to the driveway, play a game of horse or something? Loser cleans up the mess in the morning…"

Jack looked at him like he had lost his mind. "We are not shooting hoops at one in the morning!"

"How about a run, then? I'll even untangle Riley's knots for you!" He stood up quickly and swayed a little.

Jack shot up to steady him and settled him back on the couch before he could fall. "Or, how about we admit that even if your brain doesn't slow down, alcohol still messes with your body, and you are in no shape for either?"

Mac snorted. "You're no fun!" But the shadow was still deep in his eyes and Jack knew whatever it was was still in there, eating at him.

"You have no idea," Jack said, moving over to the couch beside his friend. "How about you spill what's going on in that big brain of yours so I don't have to make you talk!"

Mac chuckled at that. "You're gonna make me talk? C'mon, Jack, we both know you would never hurt me!"

Jack matched his smile. "Of course I wouldn't. Never said I would. Have no intentions of causing you any pain…" At that, he dove sideways, digging his fingers in the side of his friend's ribs, where he happened to know Mac was unbearably ticklish.

With a startled, unmanly yelp, Mac would never admit to making even under worse torture than this, he tried to squirm away, cover his ribs, and curl into a ball all at once. And again, his body betrayed him and his tangled arms gave Jack the chance to grab both wrists and pin them to the couch, both immobilizing his hands and exposing his entire left side for Jack to torment.

He clamped down on his lip, hard, unable to stop the squirming to escape, but determined to stop any laughter (he still wouldn't admit to the strangled pleas that would pour out if he let his mouth open!). Jack continued his assault and somehow Mac was even able to hold out almost another thirty seconds under the unbearable torture as his friend found every single ticklish spot from his armpit to the top of his hip before he broke, barely able to find the strength to beg.

"Okay, ok,! Please! I'll talk!" At least, that's what he tried to say… but Jack understood the pitiful whimpers and gasps that actually came out, and relented his attack. He gave a smug grin as Mac caught his breath and glared daggers at his friend, trying to regain a small amount of his dignity. Still, he was unable to stop the childish pout. "That was mean!"

Jack grinned. "It was necessary. But I won't deny it was fun as hell…"

Trying hard to remember that he was a grown man (something they both often spent a lot of time trying to forget), he continued to glare, even though with his hair all messed up, Jack couldn't help but draw comparisons to an exhausted golden retriever after romping around with its person. "Come on," Jack said, "don't make me ask again!"

The glare disappeared as quickly as it had shown up. Pleading eyes met Jack's, but he was given no reprieve. "Okay," he sighed. "But you gotta promise you won't laugh, and we will never speak of this again. You will not throw this back at me again, ever!"

Jack winced. "That hurts, bro! You know I would never do that to you if something really bothers you…"

Mac nodded, face reddening somewhat. "Yeah, I know, but this may be the weakest, most childish thing I've ever admitted to…" An embarrassed smile crosses his face and suddenly he seemed to find his grey socks fascinating. Jack gave him time to gather his thoughts into words, and finally he said, "I was just thinking that Luke Skywalker I a lot stronger than we give him credit for. No way I'm strong enough to do what he did."

Okay, the kid had said a lot of weird shit in his time with Jack, but if he was trying to deflect what was really on his mind, he would have come up with something much less absurd. "Okay, that's what's in your head? You must have had more to drink than I thought… He refused to kill the bad guys who had literally obliterated planets, single-handedly set a Sith Lord loose on the galaxy, then hid on an island/planet thing! Not really seeing a paragon of strength there… And I can't see you doing any of that!"

Mac didn't match his confused grin. In fact, he didn't even look up and see it. "Maybe not… But I wouldn't be in the position to do any of it… Except maybe kill Palpatine, but still…"

He broke off again, sort of looking up at Jack through long eyelashes, like he was waiting for a rebuke, and there was really nothing about Star Wars that would warrant that reaction… More confused than ever, Jack said "Go on."

Mac nodded. "I would never have been able to say no…"

"To what?"

Mac actually looked up at that. "You know me well enough to know what… 'Join me, Luke, and we will rule the universe as father and son!'"

Jack shook his head. "Yet another misquote! What he said was- oh… you mean…"

His gaze dropping back to his socks, he said "Yeah. I mean that." Jack had no clue what to say to that, and unable to take the silence, Mac's words came out in a rush. "I mean, think about it, Jack! The father he always thought was dead is not only alive and there in front of him, but he wants him to join him, to be his sidekick or his heir or whatever! How could he be strong enough to say no to that? I'd have all but snatched his glove off reaching out to him!"

All the pieces suddenly made a perfect picture in Jack's mind, and it all made sense. It damn near broke his heart, but it made sense. It also answered why Mac fought so hard not to say anything. Sure, they talked about his dad once in a while, even speculated as to where he went, who he was now, Jack had pushed him to look for him, but the real stuff, the raw pain and emotion of it had always been sure-fire way to close the kid up like a clam. So the tears he saw filling his eyes now was new. "Mac, I-"

"Don't say it, Jack! Don't say anything!" His voice breaking with the I shed tears, but surprisingly level. "I know, it's pathetic and weak and I tell myself that and I'm a little drunk and thinking way too much and I don't think I can take hearing it from you, ok? Just, not tonight…" He dropped his head in his hands and roughly swiped the tears out of his eyes. "And do you think I don't know that admitting that to you or to anyone makes me a liability? I know that! And what I do is what I was made to do, and now as soon as this gets back to the higher-ups, that will be gone!"

Shaking his head, Jack said, "Ok, kid, I was with you for a while, but you've lost me again now… why would you lose your job? And for God sake, Mac, you should know I would never think you're weak!"

This time he looked up, he held Jack's gaze, his blue eyes remarkably clear. "Jack, it's been a long time, but I remember him really well. My dad was even smarter than me, did really important stuff that I wish I remembered more about, and I know you've thought about it, too. We have no idea who he is now! He could figuratively be Darth Vader, and I can't promise you that if we run into him out there… I can't tell you with any certainty that I would be able to resist if he wanted me again! Knowing that, how could you ever trust me in the field again?!"

The tears had dried but the pure anguish on his face was more than Jack could handle. "Hey, now kid, you listen and you listen good, ok? Because I know a few things that your brain has misplaced." He put his arm around the boy's shoulder and squeezed the back of his neck to make sure he had his full attention. "First of all, I told you I would follow you to hell and back with our gear still on fire. If that scenario ever happened, you have to promise to take me with you. I've got your back, kid, no matter what or where… Don't you dare leave me behind!"

Mac snorted a derisive laugh. "Yeah, right… like you would betray your country and everything you have put your life on the line to protect!"

"You're completely certain about that? That I wouldn't follow you to the dark side if you went?" He raised an eyebrow.

"One hundred percent certain. More sure than I have been about anything. You are too good a person to ever do that, no matter what!"

Jack tilted his chin up to meet his eyes. "You're right. I wouldn't. But I know the exact same thing about you." Mac opened his mouth to speak, but Jack put his hand up to stop him. "You might not think so right now, because you are feeling weak and more vulnerable than you're used to and thinking with your heart rather than that big brain of yours. It would be hard, and maybe the most painful thing you could go through, and you don't think you're that strong now. But nothing your father could do or say or be can ever change who you are, what's in your heart. I know that without a doubt, and when your thoughts are manageable, you will too."

Mac seemed to consider that for a moment, unsure. "But…"

"No buts yet… Another thing you aren't thinking about, here, and I know in the moment you would. You choose to join him, you lose the opportunity Luke had…"

Comprehension dawned in the wide blue eyes. His voice was slightly awed at the thought as he processed it. "If I joined him, I would lose the chance to…"

"To do the one thing Luke wanted to do, and the one thing you would want."

"To save him…" Mac's jaw fell open as he contemplated the now-obvious fact that he had missed. "If I join him, we're both lost… If I don't, there's still hope…"

Jack smiled proudly as he watched his boy put the pieces together, and pulled him into a hug. Mac not only didn't pull away, but laid his forehead on Jack's shoulder for a moment. "Thank you, Jack. That has been rattling around in my head for a long time. Never had the nerve to say any of it out loud."

"Well," said Jack, "now you got it out of there. Better?"

Mac nodded, sitting up. "Yeah. Sometimes my brain needs a second opinion." He sat up and swayed a little, then winced. "I might be a little bit nauseated…"

That was all the warning Jack had to grab the garbage can before it was imminently necessary as Mac paid for his slight overindulgence that evening. Jack held his shoulders as he heaved, then tied the whole can up in a bag and put it on the porch. They were cheap, and that was just gross!

Returning to the living room with a Sprite in one hand a a bottle of water in the other. The boy was slumped against the bag of the couch, eyes closed, clutching a plastic bag in one hand like a lifeline. He looked all of fifteen, too young to have drunk himself sick, and far too young to have been through as much pain as he had. Jack hated to wake him up, but no way he was going to let him lay there and be sick without trying to rehydrate him and at least rinse out his mouth.

He sat beside him and shook him lightly. "Hey, bud, open your eyes a minute. You need to drink something."

Pale blue eyes cracked a bit. "Isn't that what got me in this shape?"

Jack grinned. "Yeah, pretty much… but let's at least get the nasty out of your mouth, okay?" He put the Sprite in his boy's hand, which he took and guzzled half of it before Jack took it back. "Easy! You want to puke again?"

Mac sat up a little. "Right, sorry." He took the water and sipped it a little more tentatively, his mouth now clear.

When it seemed the immediate crisis had passed, he helped Mac to his feet and followed to make sure he made it to his bed. Already wearing sweats and a soft old MIT t-shirt, he all but collapsed into his bed. Pulling the sheet and blanket up over him, and Mac, already half asleep, snuggled under it. "Thanks, Jack…" he muttered, barely audible.

"Anytime, kid," Jack muttered, more to himself than to Mac. He watched from the doorway and his breathing evened out. In a few minutes, he would go get the mop bucket and put it beside the bed. He would go get the water, a bottle of Motrin, and a pack of crackers on the night stand before thinking he would be dehydrated and going back for a second bottle of water, then turning on a small lamp across the room so he could find all of it when he awoke. Then he would dig his blanket and pillow out of the hall closet and settle onto the couch, tv on mute for the light but quiet enough he could hear a danger.

But for now, he simply leaned against the door frame, making sure sleep took the boy somewhere nice instead of throwing him into a nightmare. Affection flooded him, almost strong enough to take his breath, and he wondered for a moment if this was how it felt to be a father… No, he corrected himself. To be a dad. While he had never sired a child that he knew of, but he was pretty sure it was.

To hell with James MacGyver! The boy is mine!


End file.
